


Ripples

by BlueRobinWrites



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cormoran doesn't like it, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Robin doesn't feel well, Wolfgang gets a biscuit, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28104165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRobinWrites/pseuds/BlueRobinWrites
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32
Collections: Denmark Street Discord Sekrit Santa 2020





	Ripples

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pools_of_venetianblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pools_of_venetianblue/gifts).



As he tossed his keys on the table beside the door, he registered her jacket hung on the peg and her bag laying, as though dropped carelessly, on the floor, the strap spilling across the walkway. Seeing this, he knew something must be wrong. She’d never be so careless with her belongings, but she’d also never leave a trip hazard for him. 

“Robin?” he called out, as he moved down the hall to the sitting room. Wolfgang was nowhere to be found either, which was odd, because his little buddy usually came running when he came home. 

He continued on, worry growing swiftly. He glanced into the sitting room, finding it empty, though the lights on the massive Christmas tree were lit, and there was a mug on the coffee table, next to a pair of scissors and a tape dispenser, rolls of wrapping paper laid haphazardly on the floor, as though dumped there. 

As he continued down the hall, he could see that the door to Max’s room was closed, but this was no surprise since he knew Max was away for the week, shooting his new television drama, on location. He’d be back at the weekend, while the show broke for the holidays. But for now, Robin had the flat to herself. 

He reached Robin’s door, which was slightly off the latch, as though she’d pushed it closed behind her. He rapped a knuckle against it gently, not wanting to disturb her if she was sleeping. The door eased open a bit, revealing a flickering spill of light from her loo, and Wolfgang laying in the doorway, as though watching over her. 

“Robin?” he called softly, and he heard a slosh of water, as she answered back, calling out in a tiny and pained voice.

“Hiya.”

“Are you OK?”

“Migraine,” she answered miserably, prompting a wince of sympathy from him, even though she couldn’t see him. 

“Do you need anything? Tea? Ice?” he asked.

“No. ‘M fine,” but she didn’t sound it. 

“Have you taken anything for it?”

“Just some paracetamol.”

“How long ago? Do you know?” He’d walked further into her room, though not far enough to be able to see her. But he heard the sloshing of water again and realized she must be in the bathtub, and the flickering light coming from candles she‘d lit so she’d be able to see without a bright light hurting her head more. 

“Maybe an hour or so? I think,” she was sounding more and more agonized and his heart twisted because he knew there was nothing he could really do for her. 

“Can I do anything for you? Whatever you need.”

He leaned with his back against the wall beside the doorway to the loo, waiting for her response, conscious of her privacy and wanting to preserve it, but also feeling the need to be near her, to reassure himself that she was going to be fine. 

“Could you just,” she paused, gave a soft sigh, then said, “Come sit with me? Tell me about your day?”

Shocked, he asked, “Would that help?”

“Couldn’t hurt. And maybe it’ll take my mind off the pain.”

“Ok. Just a sec,” he said, and he crossed her room, picked up her vanity seat and carried it back to the bath. He stepped over Wolfgang, who stayed as still as a statue, and set the vanity seat as close to the tub where his partner reclined as he could. 

The room was warm, steam rising from the water surrounding her pale limbs, fogging the mirror slightly, so that his reflection in the mirror was blurry. The trio of candles she’d lit, lined the counter around her sink. The scents of pine mingling with cranberries was as quietly pleasant as the flickering light being cast about the small room from the flames on the candles. 

Looking at her, he could see that her naturally pale skin was drained of all color, save a flush cresting her cheekbones he assumed was from the warmth of her bath. As he sat down, he dipped his fingers into the water, finding it a few degrees below boiling. 

“Does boiling yourself help?” he asked with a small smile as her eyes fluttered open to meet his. The greyish blue was dim, radiating her pain.

“I thought it might help my body relax, which would allow my brain to relax and then maybe the migraine would ease,” she explained. “But, no, it’s not really helping.”

“How long have you been in here?

“Not sure. A while.”

He leaned forward, settling his elbows on his knees and allowing his hands to dangle just above the water. “When did it start?”

“Right around the time Fitness Freak was walking into the locker room. She’d been on the treadmill for two hours.”

“Which means you’d been on the treadmill or bike for two hours,” he guessed.

“Right.”

“When did you eat last?”

“Don’t mention food,” she groaned, sinking a little lower into the tub, so that her chin touched the water and the tendrils of bronze hair that were falling down from the back of her head just caressed the surface of the water. “I made it home, took some paracetamol and I was going to try to get the boy’s presents wrapped, since we have dinner with them on Thursday, but by the time I got all the wrapping paper and everything together, my head was pounding.”

“You know you don’t have to wrap their gifts. I can manage, especially if you’re feeling poorly,” he gently reminded her, smoothing the backs of his fingers along her thigh, consolingly. 

“I know,” she smiled wanly. “But you have surveillance for the next two nights and I like wrapping.”

He nodded, understanding that this was one of her ways of taking care of him. She liked to do the smaller things that he didn’t enjoy, removing them from his plate without a word, and he reciprocated by making sure that the trash was always taken to the bin, washing up after she or Max cooked for them, and various other small household things that occasionally needed doing.

“Did you eat much today at all though?” he asked, returning to her condition, anxious to try to help her feel better in any way he could. “Because if you didn’t, being on a treadmill for two hours could have started this,” he motioned to her head. 

She tilted her head, considering. “Hmmm, maybe.”

“Why don’t you let me go make you a cuppa and bring you some biscuits.” he felt the corners of his mouth tilt up as he heard Wolfgang’s tail thump the carpet on the other side of the doorway at the mention of biscuits. 

Robin nodded, “Yeah. Okay then,” and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the bath pillow she was reclining on. 

“Good,” he said as he stood and headed toward the door, “Be right back.”

“Thanks Cormoran.”

“For you? Any time.”

He strode down the hall and collected the mug from the sitting room, before climbing the stairs to the kitchen, this time accompanied by Wolfgang, who was clearly determined to get his own biscuit. He rinsed the mug in the sink after flicking the kettle on and then reached down his own mug and the biscuits. 

He stuffed one in his mouth as he waited for the kettle to start boiling, and then broke one in half, bending down and offering it to Wolfgang, who took it delicately between his teeth and crunched it. 

“Watching over her were you?” he asked his chubby companion. “Don’t like seeing her this way huh?” He offered the other half of the biscuit, which was accepted just as delicately. “Me either buddy.”

He straightened and turned back as the kettle clicked and quickly poured the water into the waiting mugs, then tucked the packet of biscuits under his arm and looped the fingers of one hand through both handles of the mugs so that his other hand would be free to hold on to the railing. He waited at the top of the stairs for Wolfgang to go ahead of him and then followed the dachshund. When he entered the bathroom, Wolfgang was standing on his back legs, licking at the drops of water clinging to the hand Robin had raised from the water to pat his head, as though checking to see if she was any better. 

Cormoran carefully sat the mugs down on the sink, picking up her mug and setting it on the ledge of the tub for her, before retrieving his own and the biscuits and settling himself back on the vanity seat. He pulled a biscuit from the packet and handed it to her, “Here. Nibble on that a bit. Maybe it’ll help.”

She took it, and with a look of vague disgust dunked the edge of it into her tea before taking a miniscule nibble and grimacing with distaste before looking at him with an expression of pained resignation. 

“Barclay made some progress with Hairpiece today,” he began, knowing that while she’d relax eventually, she might do so a bit quicker if he just talked and filled her in as he usually would. 

“Followed him to the warehouse, got pictures of him entering with nothing and leaving with a rucksack. He reckons a few more days like that and he’ll be able to hand everything over to Wardle for them to pursue. And Michelle says Blarney is still up to his shenanigans, so she’s going to try to ingratiate herself with him. See if he’ll tell her his ‘story’ and figure out where to go from there. His mother will not be pleased.”

“She will most certainly not,” Robin agreed quietly, her lips poised just an inch from the rim of her mug as she blew across the surface of the still hot tea. 

“Funny that you’re sitting in water just off the boil and yet your tea is too hot to drink,” he teased gently, as he sipped his own brew.

“Hush. The water’s not that hot.”

He gave a skeptical hum as he set his mug on the rim of the tub and dipped a hand into the water again. The back of his hand just brushed the side of her thigh again, which she moved ever so slightly to press against him. He moved his hand back and forth in the water, allowing the backs of his fingers to trail along the long muscle of her upper leg, drawing a sigh of contentment from her. 

“Pat missed you today,” he chuckled, still rubbing her leg gently, enjoying the way the water added a layer of silkiness to her already soft skin, but determined to do nothing more than soothe her. She was in no condition for any of his more amorous pursuits. 

“She grumbled at me every time I dared to wander out of my cave.”

“She did not,” Robin huffed a quiet chuckle, though her eyes were closed. 

“Did too. She’s never going to admit that she likes me really. She’s playing hard to get,” he took a sip of his tea, watching her over the rim of his mug as her eyelashes fluttered open. He winked cheekily. 

“Well if you’d just tell her you love her, I’m sure she’d change her ways,” she gave him a contented smile, as she finished off her biscuit and held her hand out for another.

He passed her the next biscuit, after playfully taking a small bite of it himself, and grinned as she chomped down on it, heedless of the crumbs that fell into her bath water. The banter was working, as he’d meant it to.

“Nah. She’ll appreciate it more if she has to work for it.”

“So mean.”

“So’s she.”

“She’s an angel,” she protested.

“Demon.”

“You know she’s fond of you.”

“Wants to brain me with her stapler.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at his persistence. “Have it your way.”

She set her mug aside and reached for another biscuit. 

“Looks like we may need more biscuits,” he said.

“Maybe.”

“Do you want me to order takeaway? Something small? You really do need more than just tea and biscuits,” he cajoled. 

“I suppose,” she slid further into the water, still nibbling her biscuit.

He took out his phone and pulled up DoorDash, tapped a few times and set his phone back down. 

“Nandos is on the way.”

She nodded and with her eyes closed held her hand out to him. He took it in his and began rubbing the palm with his thumbs, slowly smoothing them along the width of her small palm, before gently pulling and squeezing each of her fingers. Smiling to himself at her hum of contentment, before working his way up her hand to her wrist, and then arm. 

“I wish this tub was bigger,” she sighed, when he’d reached all of her arm that he was capable of. 

“I’ve had that same thought a few times tonight.”

“Only tonight?” she opened one eye sardonically.

He held up his hands innocently, “You’re the one who likes it when I sit with you while you’re soaking.”

“It’s nice.”

He leaned forward again, trailed his hand in the water, brushing her leg deliberately now. “I’m happy to talk to you anytime,” he said softly, watching the way the water rippled around her, rising up her skin and then receding. “I just wish I could soak with you.”

“Mmm. Note to self, next flat must have tub big enough for two.”

“It would take a swimming pool to fit me in with you, Ellacott,” he chuckled. 

“We’ll see about that.”

She held out her hand again, though this time it was a clear gesture requesting his help. He stood, sliding the vanity stool out of the way, grasped her hands and gently tugged her up, trying not to watch the way the water slid along the hills and valleys of her body. Drops sliding along pale freckled skin, teasing him with memories of showers taken together, nights when one of her baths turned into long and elaborate foreplay that ended up with them tangled up in each other for the rest of the night. 

She stepped from the tub and held up her arms to allow him to wrap the massive bath sheet he’d tugged from the towel holder around her. Once she was wrapped in the soft cotton he gathered her against his chest, her arms tucked between them. Her head fell against his shoulder as her damp warmth pressed against his chest and her scent swirled through his senses. He turned his head and rested his cheek against her hair, the scent of her shampoo mingling with the gardenia scent of the perfume that clung to her even after her soak. 

He never tired of holding her. He’d worried that he might. That one day the novelty of holding Robin Ellacott, feeling her body against his, her skin on his, might no longer be as enticing as all of the fantasies he’d pushed away over the years. But holding her was better than any fantasy could have ever been. Knowing that he was allowed to touch her, anytime, continued to awe him, even two years after their first kiss. 

“We should move eventually,” he murmured. 

“I s’pose,” came her soft and muffled response.

One of his arms banded her waist as he gently rubbed her back through the towel with the other. 

“Food’ll be here soon,” he reminded her. “D’you want to eat in bed?”

“While that’s tempting,” she rubbed her nose against the side of his neck, the tip brushing his collar. “You’d just have to climb back up the stairs to put the trash in the bin. So we might as well go upstairs.”

“Okay. Why don’t you get into your pyjamas and go make some more tea. I’ll step outside and have a fag while I wait for the food, take Wolfgang with me. We’ll eat, clean up, and then I’ll rub your shoulders and back until you tell me to stop.” 

“Roger that,” she sighed. But she didn’t step away from him. “I’ll go in a minute. You’re so warm.”

“You always say that,” he rubbed his cheek against her hair, enjoying the way the amber strands caught in the bristly stubble he’d not scraped away that morning. 

He squeezed her firmly, one last time, before easing her away and pushing her gently toward the door. Once she was moving, Wolfgang padding silently along next to her, he turned and braced his arm against the wall, bending low to blow out the candles still flickering on the ledge of the tub, then he picked up her vanity stool and carried it back to its place, and went back for the mugs and biscuit wrapper. 

She was just pulling one of her slouchy jumpers over her head as he carried the mugs out of the room. “I’m going to step out now. Okay?” he asked. 

She nodded and bent to pick up Wolfgang, cuddling him in her arms as she turned to follow him from the bedroom.

He quickly set the mugs on the side table in the sitting room, where he’d grab them on his way up with their food, and picked up his coat, swinging it on, before pulling out his pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and opening the door. He stepped outside, struck a match and inhaled, leaning back against the brick of the flat to wait, he thought about how rare it was to see Robin under the weather. He could remember only a handful of times in the six years they’d known each other that she’d been sick. Finding her with a headache worried him. Even though it appeared to have been brought on by her over extending herself, as she was prone to do. He imagined it was normal to not want to see the person you loved ill. But somehow it was harder to see Robin brought low. She always seemed so indefatigable. Hale and hearty. Sturdy and strong. 

He resolved to keep a closer eye on her as they got closer to the holiday the following week. He knew she was feeling the strain of not going back to Masham this year, but the case they were currently working wasn’t one that could be put on hold for the holiday, and rather than require any of their married subcontractors to work through the holiday and be away from their families, they’d agreed to take the case themselves. He’d just have to keep an eye on her and make sure she was sleeping and eating as she should. He’d enlist Max when he arrived back home. He knew Max and his boyfriend Jaime, would look after Robin when he couldn’t be there. 

He pushed off from the wall in anticipation as he saw a biker turn onto the street. Sure enough, the biker came to a stop in front of him and after exchanging food for a few bills for a tip, Strike turned and headed back inside. He hung his coat back up on the coat rack, and turned to grab the mugs, but discovered they weren’t there. Shaking his head at himself, he really should have known better, the woman saw everything, he climbed the stairs. 

She’d already set the table with plates and cutlery, a beer was open and waiting for him at his customary spot and she was sitting with her legs pulled up in the chair, chin resting on her knees, waiting for him to join her. 

“We’re going to eat,” he informed her. “Then I’ll clean everything up while you go back down and get into bed. I’ll take Wolfie out for his evening constitutional and then come back and rub your back. Deal?”

She held out her hand, as though to shake, but he brought it to his lips, “I don’t like seeing you so unwell.” He couldn’t stop the words.

“I’ll be fine soon enough,” she offered.

“I know,” he nodded, dishing a small portion of chicken onto her plate. “But I still don’t like it.”

“Anymore than I like seeing you in pain from your knee?”

“Touche,” he allowed. “Eat.”

He nudged her plate toward her and waited until she’d taken a bite before following suit. 

They ate in relative silence, taking turns slipping Wolfgang slivers of chicken under the table until her plate was clear. 

He lifted his beer and drained the rest, before standing and gathering the plates and cutlery and carrying it to the sink. He closed up the containers and tucked them into the fridge and just as he was about to nudge her off to bed she pulled her legs back up into the chair and said, “I’ll wait for you to finish and then go downstairs with you.”

He nodded and set about rinsing the dishes and putting them into the dishwasher. 

When he finished, he dried his hands and turned out the lights in the kitchen, then taking her hand, walked with her to the stairs. She picked up Wolfgang and headed down in front of him, holding the chubby dog against her so that his head lay against her shoulder, bobbing gently as she carried him down the stairs. Cormoran could have sworn the look in the dog’s eyes was just as worried as he felt. But he remained still in Robin’s arms as she waited in the hall for Cormoran to put his coat on and attach Wolfgang’s leash to his collar. 

She leaned into his side as he pressed a kiss to her temple before sighing softly and turning toward her bedroom as he reached for the door. 

“Be back in a mo’,” he said. 

He stepped out into the cool evening air, lit a cigarette and set off down the sidewalk with Wolfgang. 

“Let’s make this a quick one, bud,” he said to the dachshund as Wolfgang started snuffling along the street and by the time he’d finished his fag, Wolfgang had done his business three times and was happily trotting back toward home. 

He opened the door and slipped through, before closing and locking it behind him. He bent to pick up the dog, unclipped his leash and hung it on it’s hook. As soon as he set the dog back on his four paws, Wolfgang dashed down the hall and through the door to Robin’s room. 

Cormoran quickly stripped off his coat, hung it up, and followed his furry friend. In the light from the hall he could see the outline of her, curled under her duvet, her amber hair still pinned loosely up and the gleam of Wolfgang’s eyes as he curled at the foot of the bed, watching over his person. 

Cormoran flipped the switch, turning out the hall light, and moved to the side of the bed, shucking his own jumper and laying it on the chair next to the bed before unbuckling his belt and trousers. He sat and removed them, along with his shoe and leg, and laid back on the pillows, tugging the duvet up and turning over to gently gather Robin’s sleeping form against him. 

She turned in her sleep, throwing a leg over his hip and tucking her hands against his chest, so that his chin rested against the top of her head. 

And with a deep but quiet sigh, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift to sleep with her, hoping that she’d be back to her usual self in the morning, but prepared to cover her cases for her if she wasn’t. 

After all, he’d learned, in this last two years with her, that’s how love worked. 


End file.
